Lost Generation
by Michael2
Summary: Colin finds out a plague wiped out American civilization a decade ago. COMPLETE
1. Colin's Diary

It was a festive day when I left. It was Saint Patrick's Day, and from what I know about the world, it is a day of celebration for the local Irish community. Happy hour was about to start, and the bar was about to become pretty crowded. I decided to spend my last few minutes on this world in the Irisher bar, located across the street from Saint Patrick's Hospital, in a city called Francograd.  
  
From what I knew about history, Russians settled in the western coast of North America in the early fifteenth century, and the current civilization in this world's version of California is descended from the fourteenth century Russian settlements. Over the past few centuries, people from Ireland, England, China, and Japan immigrated here. Russian was of course the primary language, although there are English-speaking enclaves within major cities like Francograd, which is the largest city in the nation. Francograd is a counterpart of San Francisco in the world I grew up in, and it explains why the two names are similar. After all, from my travels I notice that destiny tends to assert certain patterns across a wide range of dimensions. It is the similarities that interest me, not the differences.  
  
Anyway,. I decided to have as much beer as I can. I had worked in this bar as a temporary assistant to Michael Mulligan who runs the bar. (As a slider, any job I get is temporary.) I recognized the Russian can driver whose duplicates I have enoucntered before, all driving taxis. Apparently it is his day off, as he is having a few drinks.   
  
"So, ye're leavin' today?" asked Michael Mulligan who decided to tend bar himself during happy hour.   
  
"Afraid so," I said. "I've got to keep searching, you know."  
  
Then I saw a trio of ladies, whom I recognized. They were Heather, Michelle, and Kathleen. I encountered their duplicates last Christmas, in another version of this neighborhood. It is funny how I run into different versions of the same person.   
  
"Hello, Colin," said Heather as she approached the bar.  
  
"Hi," I said. "I'll be leaving today; you probably won't see me again."  
  
"We'll miss you," said Michelle.  
  
"Good luck on your journey," said Kathleen.  
  
"I have my supplies here," I said, noting the bottled water and snack foods I purchased from a ;liquor store just down the street. "Listen, allow me to buy you a pitcher of green-tinted beer."  
  
"Thanks," said Heather. "Yer such a sweetie."  
  
And so I did. Less than a minute later, Michael Mulligan poured me a pictcher of green-tinted beer and I shared it with the ladies.   
  
The party was definitely picking up even though it was only ten minutes shy of four P.M. I recognized many of the patrons as counterparts of people I met in Christmas of 1999, include the neighborhood priest Father Flannigan, who was reading a Russian-language newspaper. I picked up the pace for the beer, since I was going to be gone soon.  
  
"Well, you three," I said to the Irish trio, "I'm gonna be leaving soon."  
  
We all hugged together, and they said their goodbyes.  
  
I had two minutes left. I made sure I was carrying my supplies, and I made sure I was standing apart from everyone else so I do not take anyone else with me.   
  
My watch which measures the amount of time I had left ticked away. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. three. Two. One.   
  
I looked around and saw the crowd of partying people, all getting drunk. And then they were gone. The first thing I noticed is that the layout of the room is the same as the room I was in when I left. I could see the bar and the stools and tables.  
  
I also noticed it looked deserted. There was a coating of dust on the wooden floors and tables, and I saw cobwebs along the walls.   
  
I went behind the bar. The beer tap for Heineken was in the same place as it was before; I noticed a tap for Budweiser beer, which had no counterpart in the world I just left. I also noticed there were no kegs. I looked in the refrigerator and there were no beer bottles. All the liquor from the shelves were gone.  
  
In fact, I noticed the refrigerator was warm; it had not been turned on in a long time.  
  
I went to the kitchen where the food was cooked; the room was dark so I used a flashlight. The food in this bar was actually quite good; I enjoyed the corned beef and I had some corned beef an hour before I left the previous world. I turned on the handles for the stove, but there was no flame. I flipped the light switch; the lights did not turn on. I went to a telephone; there was no dial tone.  
  
Perhaps this bar went out of business at least a year ago. But why was this place not cleaned up? Why just leave everytjhing here, rather than sell the furniture and cooking equipment and the pool tables?   
  
I looked through the pantries and the freezer, all were empty. There was nothing else in the bar telling me about the world except that this bar was obviously out of business.  
  
I decided ti go out. I intended to head to a library, find the basics of this world, and find out of Quinn can help me. I had a few days to kill on this world.  
  
The sight that greeted me shocked me. There was no one on the street. No cars drove in either direction. There were some cars parked on the street; they appared to be at least a decade old. Further down the street, I could see a traffic signal, but the lights were not on.   
  
I looked around. the bar I came out of was called the Irisher; it was a duplicate of the bar I had worked in in the previous world.   
  
I noticed that none of the storefront signs had Russian writing, so Russian is not commonly spoken in this place. I noticed some of the store windows were broken. It looked like there had not been any repairs made for at least a year or so.   
  
I wondered what happened. Did kromaggs conquer this world and took the survivors to its slave camps. I waited around for a minute, expecting a helicopter or a manta jet. None came.  
  
I looked at the newsstand just a block down from St. Patrick's Hospital. I could see some newspapers there. I decided to go over to read the newspaper.  
  
There was a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle. I noticed the headline had big, bold letters. What I read was another unpleasant surprise.  
  
PLAGUE DEATH TOLL 6 BILLION!!!  
  
140 MILLION AMERICAN DEAD ESTIMATED  
  
I scanned the headline over and over again before deciding to read the article. Apparently, a few weeks before the article was printed, there were outbreaks of some strange disease in major urban centers around the world. The people got flu-like symptoms, and were dead within two days. Soon, hospital beds were overcrowded, and the President declared martial law and the U.S. Army enforced quarantines. But it was too late. Millions of people continued to get sick and died.  
  
"My God," I softly said.  
  
I read through the newspaper. Secrearty of Housing and Urban Development Roberta Achtenberg had been sworn in as President of the United States, after the President and Vice President and the leaders of Congress had died. The San Francisco City Hall had shut down. The interim mayor of San Francisco promised to maintain order until the crisis had passed.  
  
Apparently, this crisis resulted in a deserted city.  
  
I read through some of the other sections. There was an article about the Game 3 of the NBA Finals between the Minnesota Lakers and the San Diego Clippers. Half of the team was too ill to play, and three basketball players became ill on the court and had to be rushed to the hospital. There was a small announcement that the NBA Finals have been postponed until the pandemic is contained. I also read a movie review about a movie which premiered the day before. I read a notice that three advice columnists who have columns in the Chronicle have not written because of illness.  
  
I decided to scan the date. It was May 26, 1990.  
  
That was almost a decade ago!   
  
I decided not to go to the San Francisco Public Library. Whatever the history of this world is, it is not relevant in this post-plague world. Coiuld I be the only human alive here? Did this plague wipe out all of humanity? I ran as fast as I could through the deserted streets of San Francisco.  
  
Then I reached the place. It was a two-story house. I looked at the mailbox, and there was some mail inside. I saw a Discover credit card bill issued to a Michael Mallory. The envelope was postmarked for May 23, 1990. I was eighteen at the time.   
  
The house looked intact from the outside, although the paint was peeling from a decade of neglect. I decided to go inside. Maybe I casn find out what happened to Quinn-and to Colin.  
  
The inside was very dusty. Every time I walked, there was dust kicked up, making me cough. I scanned the living room with my flashlight; there were cobwebs on the wall. I noticed the furniture was still here, although there was no television. I scanned the coffee table, and there was a TV Guide and a Time magazine. The Time magazine's cover stpory was about the plague.   
  
I went to the kitchen. the refrigerator was still there. I noticed a smell coming out, and I opened it.  
  
The scent made me wish I had not opened it. I closed it quickly. I did not need to open it again to know there is spoiled food inside. I opened the cupboards, and there was nothing. Apparently, they had been all cleaned out.  
  
I noticed a photograph attached to the Kenmore refigretator. It was a picture of my parents, my brotyher, and me. I have a counterpart on this world.  
  
I decided to go upstairs to scan the bedrooms. I looked into one. I saw a bed and some very dusty furniture. I noticed a poster of Rembrandt Brown hanging on the wall-apparently his duplicate here was a celebrity.   
  
But then, I had to examine the body. There was nothing left except a dusty, dry skeleton with rags on. I searched the drawers, and all of the clothes were gone. thewre were no clothes in the closet either. I bent down and looked at a small plastic card.   
  
There was a picture of a young man barely into manhood with short brown hair. the card was a student ID from Stanford University.  
  
I read the name.  
  
Colin Mallory.  
  
"My Lord," I said. I looked at the skeleton on the bed, and knew that was my counterpart! I never seen any dead counterpart of mine, although Quinn told me he once had an enocunter with a newly-dead duplicate of his. I touched it and it felt dry. The smell was not foul though, just musty. Apparently, my duplicate's corpse had nearly a decade to decay.   
  
I looekd around. There were books on history and art and politics. My duplicate was apparently interested in those subjects. I took a look at another small book. I saw handwritten writing in it. It was a journal!  
  
"I hope you don't mind if I read it," I said to the skeleton in the bed.  
  
There were entries dating from September of 1989. I read about his first night at the Stanford dorms, and how his classes were. He had rushed fraternities on campus, but was never accepted. he went to basketball practice, as he was on the Stanford University basketball team and was attending the place because of a basketball scholarship. I also learned he had a girlfriend named Molly, whom he met in high school.   
  
He spent Christmas Eve 1989 with Molly, and wrote about Christmas dinner with his parents and Quinn. He mentioned calling Molly on the phone that day; it was apparent he was very much in love with this girl.  
  
He rang in the year 1990 with Molly and their mutual friends at her older sister's house. He wrote about going back to Stanford for the spring semester. He wrote abnout his classes, and his basketball practice, and his dreams of going into the NBA, and his desire to spend more time with Molly. He wrote about attending a Rembrandt Brown concert in April with Molly, and the night afterwards. He wrote about how tough the spring finals were, and how he wished he could just go home and relax for a few weeks.  
  
It was the May 24, 1990 entry which first mentioned the plague.  
  
May 24, 1990  
  
Today I watched a special report on the news. The President declared martial law, and ordered a quarantine of major urban centers where cases of this mystery disease appeared. All flights were grounded.  
  
I knew there were cases of this disease in San Francisco. I called Molly and asked her if she was all right. Thank Goid she was not sick. I hope this epidemic blows over.   
  
I actually saw her that night and we spent many hours together. The outbreak was the least on my mind.  
  
May 25, 1990  
  
I couldn't believe it. It all started when I received a phone call while I was playing Super Mario World on the Super Nintendo. Molly's mom told me that Molly fell sick and had to go to the hospital. I wanted to visit her, but her mom said there were quarantines enforced by the Army and I would not be able to see her.   
  
My worrying about Molly consumed the rest of the day. I did not say much during dinner with Quinn and Mom and Dad.  
  
May 26, 1990  
  
I read the newspaper with its big headlines. Six billion dead! I called Molly's parents; they told me Molly was still in the hospital. they do not know if she's still alive. I coiuld tell from their voice that they were becoming ill.  
  
As we ate spaghetti that Mom cooked, I looked at her and Dad and Quinn, wondering if there were any symptoms. I could tell they were worried too. Dad said that one of his best friends had just died in the hospital from this illness.  
  
May 27, 1990  
  
Today is the worst day of my life since Katie was killed in a car accident three years ago. Molly's dad called me and told me she died in the hospital. I just dropped the phone and went to my room and just cried. I couldn't believe she was gone. I knew her since we were fifteen. She was so kind, and sweet, and beautiful. Now she's gone! I was never even there to comfort her during her last moments. I shut myself off from Mom and Dad and Quinn. I didn't even eat dinner.  
  
I noticed that I was feeling a slight fever. I wondered if this disease will claim me.  
  
May 31, 1990  
  
I must write this, even though this disease is destroying my body. I'm ill, and Mom and Dad and Quinn are also ill. Mom called an ambulance, but none came. No one came. I guess the hospital is too crowded, and no one is left to help us. I remember the pain and anguish we felt when Katie died three years ago, and now our whole family will die.  
  
I can never forget the lives I've touched. I will never forget Mom or Dad, or Quinn, or Katie. and I will never forget Molly, the one person outside my family whom I love, and for whom I would do anything for. And I will never forget my friends, or my experiences growing up. It is such a shame that my life has to be cut short like this. I am only 18 years old! I had my whole life ahead of me.  
  
The last year of my life is in this journal. There will be no one to bury me; my bedroom will be my final resting place.I hope that sometime in the future, survivors of this plague will find my journal and keep it safe. My journal is an important part of world history, though I could not have predicted it when I made my first entry. To whoever reads this journal, I want you to learn from it and I want it to be copied so that the survivors and their descendants can read my story, the story of a man who lived life to the fullest and loved to the fullest. This is my last wish.  
  
Colin Mallory (1971-1990)  
  
I closed the journal. "Okay," I said to the skeleton on the bed. I contemplated burying my duplicate in the backyard, but I decided against it. This room is his refuge, and shall be his tomb. I looked at the journal, and I wondered if I should take it with me. I decided against it; the original journal will be left in the hands of its author.   
  
I knew what I had to do. I had to look for survivors, look for food and water, and maybe make copies of my duplicate's journal.  
  
"May you find peace in the Lord Jesus Christ," I said to the skeleton. 


	2. Our Lady of Refuge

He made contact with me again.  
  
"Hello, Colin," he said.   
  
"Hi," I replied. "Listen, tell me who you are."  
  
"I will reveal everything when the time is right."  
  
"Are my brother and friends okay?"  
  
"They are still alive, and they have not given up looking for you. The time for your reunion with them approaches quickly. But you still must follow this path."  
  
I woke up, still remembering the old man in my dreams. He had been contacting me since I became unstuck. I got up and looked around the bedroom; I had decided to sleep sitting against the wall in my duplicate's bedroom. His skeletal remains were still on the bed, undisturbed.   
  
I looked out the window and I noticed it was raining. I also noticed water dripping from the ceiling. Apparently, the roof of the Mallory house cracked in the past decade or so.   
  
I then noticed something lying on the carpet of the bedroom. It was a photograph of two people. One of them was my duplicate. The other girl I recognized.  
  
Two months ago, I ran into someone named Molly, who was married to one of my duplicates. Apparently, the girl here was another duplicate of Molly. She appeared younger in this picture, as this version of Molly died when she was eighteen.   
  
I wondered if I should take the picture with me. I decided against it, and left the photograph in my duplicate's tomb.   
  
I searched the house for an umbrella, but apparently all the umbrellas were gone. So I went out in the rain and believe me, I was getting wet. I ran across the potholed streets, which had grass growing in the cracks.   
  
I made my way to a flat expanse of asphalt, with grass and weeds growing in the cracks. There were lampposts rising from the asphalt. This was a parking lot. and I saw the structure for which the parking lot was built, a Vons supermarket.  
  
I wondered if there was anything to scavenge inside. Frozen and refrigerated foods would have spoiled almost a decade ago, but there could be crackers or canned foods.   
  
The inside of Vons was a mess. The shelves were empty of anything that can be eaten- from canned soup to dry noodles to candy. I saw some magazines strewn on the floor near the magazine rack. I picked up one magazine called ym. Some fellow named Luke Perry was on the cover; I had actually met one of his duplicates two months ago.   
  
I decided to walk over to the storeroom to see if there is anything left. as I walked over there, I heard something roll on the floor. I picked it up, and I saw a bronze cylinder which was hollow. I recognized it as a shell casing for a cartridge.   
  
I went to the storeroom where the merchandise is kept. There was nothing left-nothing left to eat anyway. There were stacks of magazines and piles of books, but that was about it. Cookies, crackers, soup, dried pasta, canned sauces, and such were all gone.  
  
I also noticed bullet holes in the walls.  
  
Apparently, the police ceased to function after the pandemic. The survivors raided supermarkets and the homes of the dead for supplies, which explained why there was no food or clothes in the Mallory residence. From the bullet holes and the shell casings I found, this raid for supplies turned violent.   
  
I decided to explore the supermarket, hoping there was something the survivors missed. Then I came across a corpse.  
  
It looked like the corpse was a decade old. The flesh had decomposed, leaving only dry bone. The skeleton was small, indicating the person whom it belonged to could not have been older than thirteen years old at the time of death. Did this child die of the disease? I examined further, and I saw a big hole in the skull. Apparently, the kid took a bullet in the head. I imagined that the kid came here looking for supplies to raid from the supermarket, and was shot.   
  
It was still raining outside; I decided to stay inside Vons. But I knew there were survivors out there. I decided to wait out the rain.  
  
It was a few hours before the rain was reduced to a drizzle. I went out, making sure not to slip on the wet pavement. It looked like the sun will set soon. I set foot on the deserted neglected streets of San Francisco, hoping to find a settlement. I noticed no human activity anywhere in the city.   
  
I sat down at a bus stop and started thinking. Survivors had to ea tand drink, and they would be almost out of canned goods and bottled water by now. The plague survivors would have to grow their own food and get their own fresh water. So I figured that wherever food was being cultivated, people would live.   
  
I knew that there was not that much farmland near San Francisco, otherwise the city would still be occupied. I walked over to an Arco gas station and rummaged through the am/pm mini market, which apparently had been looted. I opened up a Rand-McNally road map of San Francisco. I noticed green areas representing parks. It is quite possible that park grounds can be plowed for the growing of crops. They needed water for the crops, though. so they would have to settle near a river or lake. The nearest lake was Lake Merced, so I decided to head over there.  
  
I walked along the streets of San Francisco for a few minutes. It was then that I heard it.  
  
I heard a horse braying.  
  
I knew from experience that wild horses can only survive in great open plains, and there were no such thing in San Francisco. Therefore, those must be domesticated horses. So I knew where the nearest survivors were.  
  
I went to the direction where I heardf the horse's noise come from. And then I saw it.  
  
I was on a sidewalk in a residential neighborhood. Just across the street from me was a wrought iron fence. I could the horse in some sort of field, being tended to by someone.  
  
I walked around the perimeter of the fence. I then came across a sign.  
  
OUR LADY OF REFUGE HIGH SCHOOL  
  
This place had been a Catholic high school. Across the street from the school was a big church, called Our Lady of Refuge Roman Catholic Church.  
  
It makes sense for surviviors of the plague to gather here. The high school would have athletic fields thgat could be turned into gardens.   
  
I wonder if they would be willing to give me some sustenance at least for the night. The worst they could do was say no.  
  
I hoped.   
  
I went to the front entrance of the high school. There was a man armed with a rifle guarding the front entrance. He looked like a teenager; he could not be more than sixteen years old.  
  
"Hello," I said. "May I come in?"  
  
"Who are you?" asked the guard.  
  
"My name is Colin Mallory, and I'm a traveler. I want to learn more about this place."  
  
The guard just looked at me, and I noticed he was looking at me funny, like I might bite him or something. Hethen walked over to the wall, and tugged a rope.   
  
Soon, three more people came out, armed with rifles. They were two girls and a boy, all who look much younger than me.   
  
"come inside," a woman said. "The father will want to see you."  
  
And so I was led inside. I noticed the inside of the halls were clean. Apparently, the whole world weas not abandoned. I wondered if the people occupying this school were the only people left on Earth.  
  
They led me to the school principal's office. It was not surprising that the leader of these people decided use the principal's office as his own.  
  
Then I faced the man. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with dark hair and glasses. He was wearing priestly garments. I recognized him from somewhere.  
  
"Tell me your name," he said.  
  
"Colin Mallory," I replied. "I'm just an itinerant traveler."  
  
"So you've seen other parts of the country."  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"My name is Father Vincent Feretti, the pastor for the Our Lady of Refuge Parish and headmaster for the Our Lady of Refuge Boarding School."  
  
I remember that name. I had an encounter with one of his duplicates back in October, when I was serving time in prison for a crime my duplicate committed. "Nice to meet you," i said, extending my hand.  
  
He shook my hand. "Tell me about yourself."  
  
So I did, and I told him the truth about my life. I wondered if he would believe me.  
  
"So you say that within a few days, you'll disappear," said Feretti. "I can understand why you would believe this. You could not cope with the death of your parents and loved ones, and were forced to survive in a world where all the institutions you've known died with those who maintained them."  
  
"I just found out about the plague yesterday. Look at this watch." I showed him the watch which had been given to me nine months ago to track how much time I had left. "When this reaches zero, I will disappear from this world."  
  
"Interesting," said Father Feretti. "To keep a digital watch working for ten years would require at least three battery changes. Did you come from Sacramento or Fresno? Only the leaders there would have the resources to keep such things running for a decade."  
  
"No, I was born in San Francisco, but in another world. I then moved around California, and I was living in el Segundo when I met my brother Quinn."  
  
"So why did you come here?"  
  
"I just wanted to learn more about the world. I might even get a job and maybe earn some food so I don't starve to death. I've worked many jobs in the past two years. I'll even shovel manure if I have to."  
  
"Well, there is a fact that you appear old."  
  
"I'm only twenty-eight. It's not that old."  
  
"Around here, twenty-eight is old. Perhaps I should tell you about the world."  
  
"I read from the old newspapers that a plague wiped out most of the human population. From what I can tell from when I arrived here, this resulted in most of San Francisco being abandoned."  
  
"Well, I'm one of the few adult survivors of the plague. It came upon us suddenly. By the time people started dying, nearly all of the population had been infected. This disease only affected adults. Children were immune. I was one of the lucky few to survive. This plague resulted in two generations lost-one of the dead and the other without the wisdom of their parents.  
  
I eblieved that the Lord spared me to provide guidance to these children. So that's what I did. I went around gathering the newly orphaned and inviting them to stay over here at the boarding school. I did this with the help of some of the students here; it seemed the oldest people who were immune were fourteen. After I gathered the children, we started scavenging for supplies and weapons."  
  
"Weapons?" I asked.  
  
"Yes, I knew that there would be no government to administer justice, so we needed weapons. I led a raid of the National Guard armory just a few miles from here. That's where we got our M-16's. I spent the next few years teaching the kids how to survive. I taught them how to grow vegetables and grains, and I even taught a few of them how to catch fish from the Pacific. I also taught them how to boil the water we got from Lake Merced so we could drink it. A few more children joined us in the coming years."  
  
"So that is your mission," I said. "You gathered them here to survive."  
  
"Not just that. We hope to rebuild society. From what our scouts reported, most of the people are living off what their parents left behind, just as we did the first year. But for us to survive as a society, we must become self-sustaining. We might add our wisdom to those who came before us. And we must create a holy society, one that is governed by the law of God and the love of Christ."  
  
"I'm sure you're not the only people trying to rebuild. there must be other people growing their own food, making their own tools."  
  
"We know of others who are doing more than just scavenging their parents' scraps. But their ways can not be the future of our world. Listen, Colin, you said you would be here only temporarily."  
  
"I've no choice in the matter."  
  
"Well, there can be a temporary place for you here. You will work, and in return you will be fed. Now come, let us meet my children."  
  
So that was what I did. I went to the school's cafeteria where everyone ate. I noticed that half of the people were in their teens. The oldest ones were in their early twenties. About a fourth of the girls were pregnant.   
  
Father Feretti introduced me to his senior staff. They were the oldest kids that he raised since the plague. "They helped me raise the younger ones, and some of them even had children of their own."  
  
"What do you do here besides gather food and water?" I asked.  
  
"We gather knowledge," said a woman with shiny blond hair tied in a ponytail. "We also teach the younger generation. It's important that we tell future generations about the history of our country and our world."  
  
"I hope to visit the library," I said.  
  
"We've maintained the library," said a young Chinese man. "I could give you a briefing about the current state of the world. I'm sure you've made plenty of observations."  
  
"On many worlds, not this one."  
  
"Let us feast," said Father Feretti.  
  
And so we did. We feasted in a private dining room which had been reserved for the faculty before the plague took them. Our dinner was meatless; it was just vegetables.  
  
"It takes a lot of resources to raise animals for food," said the woman with blond hair tied in a ponytail, whose name I learned was Deana van Dahl. "We have people gather fish from the ocean for our protein. we also raise chiceksn and hav e them occasionally. On rare occasions, we even have beef."  
  
"There're some cattle farms in the Central Valley," said this thin Negro man. "If we have a huge crop surplus, we go to the market in the Golden Gate Park and trade our vegetables for beef."  
  
"Of course," said Father Feretti, "the cow is butchered right in front of us, and all of the beef has to be eaten that very night. It is very rare occasions that we eat beef."  
  
I had some water to drink. "Is this clean?" I asked.  
  
"We boil all water used for drinking or bathing," said Deana. "We know that other places are not as hygienic as us."  
  
So I drank the water to wash down my dinner of potatoes and carrots. After that, the priest took out a bottle of wine. I read the label; the wine was made in 1977.   
  
"Let us celebrate," he said.  
  
"You;re doing that just for me?" I asked.  
  
"We've hoarded some wine since the plague."  
  
So we all toasted our glasses.  
  
Later that evening, I went to the school library with the Chinese man, whose name was Lee Tan. We sat on a table, which was lit by a candle.  
  
"the entire history of our world prior to the plague is right here," he said.  
  
"So tell me about yourself," I said.   
  
"Well, I used to live in Chinatown before the plague. My parents and my big sister all died, and I was left alone. I stayed at hoem until all the food ran out. I went out to the streets scavenging. I amde my way to the church, and Father Feretti took me in. I later decided to teach history to the young ones. How did you survive the plague? Did you just recover from the illness as Father Ferertti did."  
  
"I wasn;t here; I was in a parallel universe."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You see, there are other universes. We have counterparts in some of these other universes."  
  
"So there's another version of me whose parents and sister are still alive."  
  
"Maybe. But you are here in this universe, and this is where you have to live. I'd like to know more about this version of Earth."  
  
"Well, after we managed to get horses, Father Feretti had us scout. I did some scouting myself. We went as far east as Lake Tahoe, and as far north as Portland which is in Oregon. Wait here, I'll get something." Lee went to the librabnry. A few minutes later, he returned with a map of California made by the U.S. Geological Survey in 1985. "As you might have guessed, we are here near Lake Merced in San Francisco. There are several settlements along the pensinsula, all located near lakes or rivers. The settlements in the peninsula are small, less than a thousand people. Along the coast, there are towns supprting thousands of people such as Monterrey, Santa Barbara, and Ventura. all of these cities are near arable farmland and fresh water, so they have not been completely deserted.  
  
Loes Angeles County is basically a bunch of tiny villages amidst abandoned cities. There is very little arable farmland. The southern part of Los Angeles County is mostly paved over, while the northern part is mostly desert. The largest srttlement in Los Angeles County is in Griffith Park, which was turned into farmland. Orange County is more populated, as there is plenty of farmland just southeast of Santa Ana. There are also a couple of villages located near the Santa Ana River. San Diego county is also littered with villages, although San Diego is mostly deserted except for Balboa Park and some of the nearby reservoirs."  
  
"Interesting how removal of the adult population affects the course of history," I said.  
  
"The Central Valley is different. The Central Valley has major rivers and a lot of farmland. We estimate that a million people migrated from San Francisco and Los Angeles to the Central Valley in the first two years after the plague. The Central Valley has about eighty percent of California's population."  
  
"I wonder why Father Feretti did not relocate you guys over there."  
  
"With most of the state's surviviors migrating to the Central Valley, there was also armed conflict among competing groups of people. It was very violent as various clans fought for control. There were plenty of U.S. military bases located in the valley, and a lot of surplus weapons and equipment to wage war. It took four years before a balance of power was achieved, and during that four years, over one hundred thousand people lost their lives to armed conflict. San Francisco was relatively peaceful during those same four years. We only had a few firefights with bandits back then."  
  
"What's the situation there now?"  
  
"There are three districts. Their capitals are Sacramento, Fresno, and Bakersfield. They are all ruled by charismatic leaders, each with thousands of loyal followers. They've all extended their influence beyond the valley-the people in the Bay Area pay tribute to Sacramento-but they do not exercise much control over the frontier."  
  
"The frontier?"  
  
"Every part of California outside of the valley is considered the frontier."  
  
"What is life like in thoise districts?"  
  
"Most of the people living under their rule simply live as subsistence farmers, with only alcohol and marijuana as entertainment. The leaders of the three cities seek to rebuild the industrial infrastructureof their parents' generation, probably to increase their military might. They've recruited gifted children to work for them in exchange for extra food and luxuries. The three cities all have electric power and running water. Of course, the only ones who get to have electricity and running water are the bosses and their senior lackeys."  
  
"Why not live over there or even work with them? I mean, they want to restore civilization like you do."  
  
"We are trying to build a civilization guided by the law of God and the mercy of Christ. The rulers of the three cities want to build a civilization guided by their greed and pride. Our goals are not compatible. We do have alkies across the state; I was in Santa Barbara just a month ago visting our brethren. You understand we can't operate openly in a place under control by any of the three cities. In the frontier, we just have to pay tribute and they leave us alone."  
  
"Well, Lee, I';m getting a bit tired. I guess I';d better get some rest before Father Feretti assigns work to me."  
  
"As should I. I should see my son before I go."  
  
"How old is he?"  
  
"Six years old. He was born when I was fifteen."  
  
"that's young to be a father."  
  
"Fifteen is not young now. In this time and world, people are considered grown ups at fourteen years."  
  
"I understand why you guys had to grow up so quickly. It's kind of like me in a way. I was orphaned when I was a boy, and I had to grow up real fast. So I sort of understand what you went through."  
  
I left the library and went to sleep. 


	3. Tribute

I woke up for breakfast call. I had slept in the guest quarters, which at one time was a dormitory room for the students. From what I had heard, this had been a girls' school. The plague had changed things, and now this was the headquarters of a priest trying to rebuild American civilization.  
  
I went to the dining room with the Father Feretti and the senior staff. Breakfast was simple; just bread and water.  
  
"Do you ever have milk or orange juice?" I asked.  
  
"We need to trade lots of potatoes and lettuce to get milk from the Central Valley dairy farms," said Lee. "Milk is a luxury. As for orange juice, we'd need oranges, and the only way we can get oranges is to trade with a caravan."  
  
"Well, bread and water is fine," I said. "It's a lot healthier than Doritos."  
  
"What's that?" asked Deana.  
  
"They're tortilla chips dusted with dried powdered cheese. I would always grab a supply of Doritos just before leaving the world."  
  
"I remember those," said Father Feretti. "Almost all of the world's supply of Doritos ran out a year after the plague. Nonperishable foods are a luxury. The three cities are experimenting with food preservation. You know, we have in our library many books about jarring or canning foods; we just do not have the equipment for it."  
  
"You know, Colin," said Lee, "it was food surpluses which led to trade. Thousands of years ago, options to preserve food was limited. Obviously, food growers could not eat all of the food, and most of what they did not eat would spoil. So they traded with others who did not have much food in exchange for goods and services."  
  
"Thanks for the history lesson, Lee. You know, it's too bad I did not bring history books from other universes. You would definitely be occupied."  
  
I spent the morning doing various chores the priest had assigned to me. I started off by dusting the furniture and sweeping floors, something I had become an expert at in the past two years of sliding. After that chore was done, I was assigned to go into the field and pull the weeds. I noticed that the fields were divided into strips, and each strip had a different crop growing. Apparently, the people here read about crop rotation and practiced it. Having grown up in a small town near farmland, I knew a great deal about crop rotation. After removal of the weeds, I then had to water each of the crops by hand. I wondered if there were less labor-extensive methods of farming, perhaps some existed in the Central Valley. Of course, the school's methods of farming require a lot of labor, which explained why they were willing to accept me.   
  
Then lunch was served. It was the standard lunch-boiled potatoes and carrots, with boiled water as the beverage. The food was bland, as spices were not available, but at least it kept me from going hungry.  
  
My afternoon duty was not working on the farm or cleaning the place. I was to accompany Deana who was assigned to go to the market in Golden Gate Park. The school was out of herbs, and there was less grain than expected, so Father Feretti decided that some of the surplus crops should be traded.  
  
We had to gather potatoes and carrots and radishes and put them in sacks. We also took clay jugs filled with boiled water. Deana put the stuff in a side pack that a black horse was wearing. I noticved Deana was wearing a scarf around her head, and she wore Levis' jeans and a denim jacket.  
  
"This is Swift Wind," she said. "We got him from the racetrack about eight years ago. Are you familiar with horses?"  
  
"Yes," I replied. "I grew up around horses."  
  
I then noticed a little boy climb into the driver's seat of a car parked on the grounds of the school, a blue Chevrolet Caprice. I went over to the boy.  
  
"Whatcha doin'?" I asked.  
  
"I'm driving," said the boy. "The grown ups say that people used to drive these. They could move on their own without anyone to pull it."  
  
"Maybe you'll get to drive when you get older."  
  
"I heard there are people in the east who get to drive."  
  
"Well, have fun." I went back to Swift Wind.  
  
"That car was Father Feretti's," said Deana. "It kept running for three years after the plague. Finally, there was no more gas anywhere nearby, and a canister of gas costs a lot of potatoes. The kids like to take care of it, though. It gives them something to do besides cleaning the place and taking care of the crops."  
  
"Shall we go?" I asked.  
  
"Just hop on."  
  
So I did. I got on Swift Wind and sat right behind Deana. She guided the horse out of the school grounds and the horse walked along the streets of San Francisco.   
  
It took about half an hour to reach Golden Gate Park. Considerting the poor condition of San Francisco's streets and the obstacles on the streets which included wrecked buses and trolleys, horses were faster than cars.   
  
We finally reached Golden Gate Park. there were handwritten signs guiding us to the market. We saw the market even before we got within a hundred feet. There were booths and kiosks with merchants willing to trade their goods. I also saw a bus, which was once used as public transportation in the city, and was now permanently parked to provide shelter. I felt a strong breeze blow; I could see the branches of trees swaying.  
  
As I got closer, I could see a whole bunch of people there. Some of them were trading in crops, others were trading with factory-made goods from before the plague, and some were trading with hand-made goods. Some people stood brandishing shotguns and wearing flak jackets. At the center of the market was a statue of a man. A plaque identified the statue as being in the likeness of Stephen Douglas. Deana told me he was President of the United States over one hundred years ago.   
  
"Hello," Deana said to a young lady. "I'd like to have some of those spices. I'll give you a whole sack of potatoes."  
  
"How about potatoes and carrots," replied the young lady. "I need Vitamin A, you know."  
  
I watched as Deana haggled with the customers. I saw a booth where a man was selling grapes from Napa. His grapes must be popular with the people of San Francisco, as people were given sacks of potatoes and carrots and lettuce and cucumbers for them. Some of them even gave him pre-plague canned goods.And there was a booth where homemade liquor was being traded. Liquor was popular too, apparently more so than grapes.  
  
Then I heard a rumbling sound. It sounded like motor vehicles. "What is that?" I asked.  
  
"Probably a trade caravan," said Deana. "Aside from the bosses of the three cities, they are the only ones in California who have access to working motor vehicles. They travel all around the state, trading in goods."  
  
I looked at the approaching motor vehicles. One of them was a green four-door sedan with the Ford logo in the front. The others were vehicles which had once been used by the U.S. military.  
  
"Is that the trade caravan?" I asked.  
  
"No, trade caravans use wagons and pickup trucks to haul goods," said Deana. "That's the boss of Sacramento. He's come to collect his share."  
  
I saw the green car come to a stop. Soldiers came out of the military vehicles brandishing automatic rifles. I noticed that most of them were just teenagers. Then I saw some people come out of the green car. They were all dressed in suits. I saw this red-haired young man step out, dressed in a three-piece suit. The coat, pants, and vest were black, and the necktie was a bright red. This fellow must be the boss of Sacramento.  
  
"Good afternoon, sir," said a young man who apparently ran the Golden Gate Park market. "We are honored to have you here."  
  
"I've come to collect my share," he said. "Show me what you have."  
  
I saw the boss and his people go over to the back of a Ford F-150 pickup truck where the market owners gathered their share of goods.They were having a discussion. I casually walked over within an earshot of the boss.  
  
"Must you take such a big share?" asked the market owner.   
  
"If you want to run a market in my domain, you have yo pay your share to me," said the boss. "If you don't like it here, you can move to Nevada. I'll even give you a ride in one of my motor vehicles; the Interstate is still in fairly good condition."  
  
"Well, okay," said the market owner, grudgingly. "It's just that when you take such a big share, I have to take a big share from the traders just to compensate the security, let alone have enough to eat for myself and my family. And the larger share I take from the traders, the less trade that happens in the market."  
  
"Well, it was I who acquired for you a fine woman to bear your children. You should be grateful to me."  
  
I looked around. None of the shoppers here were making eye contact with the boss. From what I could tell, none of them wanted the boss to notice them.  
  
Then from the corner of my eye, I noticed him and some of the soldiers walking in my direction.I wondered if I caught their attention. then they walked past me.  
  
"Hello, there, fair lady," I heard the boss say.  
  
I turned, and saw the boss talking to Deana.   
  
"May I ask who you are?" she asked.  
  
"My dear, I am the Governor of California."  
  
I looked and I noticed the soldiers all had an emblem on their right sleeve, that of the California flag with its grizzly bear.   
  
"Who elected you?" asked Deana.  
  
"We haven't gotten around to elections yet, I'm afraid. There is still much to do before we can set up a framework for elections. But I must say, how is it that such a fair beauty as yourself escaped the notice of my men? I suppose this is because it is the frontier."  
  
"Well, thank you for your compliment, sir. I must take these back."  
  
One of the soldiers stood in her path. "I want you to come with me to Sacramento. I could use a fine-looking lady like you," said the boss.  
  
"I must refuse."  
  
Three of the soldiers suddenly restrained her. I went up to them.  
  
"Nobody refuses the Governor of California," said the boss. "You see, I created and maintained order, which is why we have not been reduced to hunting and gathering like people in other places. In return, I require tribute. You shall be tribute to me."  
  
I walked up to the so-called governor. "She said no," I said tom him. "She doesn't want to go with you."  
  
Then one of the soldiers hit me with the butt of the M-16 rifle. I fell and clutched my stomach.  
  
"Because I am in a good mood today," said the boss, "I will not kill you. This is my domain, and I get a share of its produce, whether it be wheat, marijuana, or women."  
  
I saw the soldiers drag Deana to the green car and then shove her into the trunk. The trunk's led was shut.   
  
The boss went over to the pickup truck which contaioned the goods he collected from the market. He proceeded to give some of them back to the market owner.  
  
"Because I found a jewel for my own personal use," he said, "I shall give you back some of these goods. I am not entirely without generosity."  
  
"Thank you, sir," said the market owner.   
  
The boss went inside the green car. The car and the military vehicles escorting it all left Golden Gate Park.  
  
I approached the market owner. "Why didn't you do anything?' I asked him.  
  
"Look, pal," he replied. "He allows me to operate here in exchange for my cooperation. If I oppose him, the market will be shut down and what will happen to the people living here?"  
  
I did not reply. I got onto Swift Wind and rode back to Our Lady of Refuge. After a few minutes of the horse galloping thorugh the streets of San Francisco, I finally reached the high school. I got off Swift Wind and headed inside the administration building; I quickly found Father Feretti.  
  
"Father Feretti!" I shouted. "I...some people from Sacramento took Deana. They put her into the trunk of a car. We've got to do something."  
  
"There's nothing we can do, Colin," said the priest, "except to pray to Jesus that she'll survive this ordeal."  
  
"Can't we gather a posse and head for Sacramento?"  
  
"And do what? Try to rescue her in a firefight? These are not bandit gangs we are dealing with here; this is the boss of Sacramento. He has raised a huge army. The bosses of the three cities will kill anyone they think poses a threat to their power. It is unfortunate that Deana was taken; unfortunately, those societies view women as mere chattel to be used."  
  
"I'm not going to abandon her."  
  
And that was a fact. 


	4. Mission to Sacramento

"Do you really want to do this?" asked Father Feretti.  
  
"Of course," I said. "I'm not going to leave her at the hands of that man."  
  
"they have cars. you won;t save her from being raped."  
  
"Does he usually release the women he takes after he's done?"  
  
"About half of the time, I guess. sometimes he gives them to his subjects as a reward."  
  
"Was anyone else taken from you like this?"  
  
"Yes, some of the girls had caught the attention of the wrong people and they were taken. We don't know what happened to them."  
  
"I'm not going to let him get away with this," I said. "I know you are trying to rebuild civilization. I read about this history of this country prior to the plague, and that justice for all was one of the principles this country was founded upon. I'm going to Sacramento."  
  
"Well, if you're going there, you'll need a horse as well as a map of the city. You can reach Sacramento by going east on Interstate 80 after crossing the Bay Bridge. The bridge is safe and still in use. I'll get Lee to help you."  
  
After an hour, I was on the horse Swift Wind. Lee Tan provided me with a street map of Sacramento he retrieved from a long-abandoned Chevron gas station.  
  
"The boss of Sacramento has his headquarters in the governor's mansion," he said. "He keeps his harem there."  
  
"I'll be back with Deana," I said. I made sure that the nine-millimeter Beretta semiautomatic pistol was loaded and ready to fire.  
  
I then set off to Sacramento. I rode through the streets of San Francisco to the downtown area, where I saw a ramp for the eastbound Interstate 80. I got on the ramp and then rode across the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge to Oakland. After a few minutes of riding, I was out of the Bay Area. A road sign indicated that Sacramento was sixty-six miles ahead. At this rate, I would not get there before dark. I did check the flashlight I had carried from the previous world; the batteries still worked. I noticed the sun setting as I rode east on Interstate 80.  
  
After hours of horseback riding, I noticed lights ahead. Those were not lights from fires; those were electric lights. From the mile markers along Interstate 80, I figured I that was Sacramento straight ahead. I remembered hearing that Sacramento's power grid had been restored three years ago and has been maintained since.   
  
I stopped right underneath a lamppost and read the map to confirm my route. I then rode a few miles to where U.S. 50 started. I got on the ramp for the eastbound U.S. 50 to downtown Sacramento.   
  
I continued on U.S. 50 and entered the city of Sacramento after crossing the Sacramento River. I looked at the city lights which looked like a field of stars planted on the ground; from here there was no indication a plague wiped out the adult population ten years ago. I passed the junction with Interstate 5, and then I found the right exit-Fifteenth Street.  
  
"Okay," I said to Swift Wind, "swish your tail to signal." I got off the freeway and then I was on Fifteenth Street.  
  
I noticed there was very little traffic at this time of night. Most of the vehicles were drawn by horses or oxen. I did notice a police car drive by, I imagined they belonged to the boss of Sacramento. I checked the map again to see where the governor's mansion is.  
  
As I rode through the streets of Sacramento, I remembered the time, when I was twelve, when Uncle Mac took me to Sacramento, which served as the capital of California in the world I grew up in. I remembered visiting the State Capitol and the governor's mansion and the historic buildings. The street layout was the same on this world as it was on my world. I saw the dome of the State Capitol, which looked identical to its counterpart on my world.  
  
I then rode to the governor's mansion; it looked identical to its counterpart on my world. I could tell the place was more maintained than most of the buildings and properties I saw in this post-plague world.   
  
I wondered if the people who worked to maintain the mansion were conscripts. After all, if the resident of this mansion were willing to kidnap women for sex, it would not be a stretch for him to kidnap people to take care of this place.   
  
I also noticed that this place was heavily guarded. There were soldiers with M-16's. Two of them guarded the main entryway into the mansion, and the other entry points were guarded with one soldier each.  
  
I had to think. It would be plausible to believe the mansion guards have radios; if anyone in California had access to working electronics, it would the boss of Sacramento and his thugs.   
  
I rode a few blocks away from the mansion to ponder my situation. I tried not to think about what the boss of Sacramento had already done-or is doing-to Deana.   
  
"Come on, Mallory," I whispered. "Think. I've broken into high-security military bases before; it shouldn't be that difficult to break into the governor's mansion."  
  
"Try a nightclub," a voice said.  
  
I looked around to see if anyone was speaking to me.  
  
"There are soldiers in the nightclub," said the voice.  
  
I knew the voice was in my head. I wondered for a moment if sliding can cause mental illness or something. Suddenly, Swift Wind started walking on his own. I had no idea where he was going.  
  
He stopped on a street. I noticed this was once a shopping district in Sacramento. I did see a neon sign for a club called the Beat. More importantly, I saw a green U.S. Army truck parked near the curb.  
  
Checking my map of Sacramento, I noticed there was a U.S. military base nearby; the truck must be from the base, and soldier's from the boss's militia are here.  
  
I entered the nightclub. There was this big man in front.  
  
"Hey dude," he said. "You need to have something to trade before you can enter."  
  
"You mean like money?" I asked.  
  
"Money? No, something more useful like canned food or maybe some working electronic device." He took a closer look at me. "you have a digital watch. If you give me the watch, I'll let you in."  
  
"Sorry," I said. "I need this watch for my travels."  
  
"Then find somewhere else to go and don't waste my time."  
  
"Wait," I said. I pulled out the spare pistol magazine. "I have a magazine with nine-millimeter bullets. It was made before the plague. We both know that pre-plague ammunition is a valued commodity in these times."  
  
"How do I know this works?" asked the doorman.  
  
"Try it."  
  
He pulled out a pistol and placed the magazine inside. He then fired it at the ground. I heard the bang and saw the muzzle flash.  
  
"You can go in," he said, giving me some coupons. "Just make sure to check any weapons you have."  
  
So that is what I did. I went to this cage where I had to hand in my Beretta and I received a ticket for its return. I then went in.  
  
Apparently, electricity was used to power the lights inside the room as well as the neon sign above the exterior door. A deejay was spinning records, and music from the eighties played on the speakers. I heard the song "Take on Me" by A-Ha and the club's patrons were dancing. In the corner of the room was a bar where liquor was served, and I noticed the room smelled like roasted marijuana. I looked at the coupons; I figured these were used to purchase drinks. I imagined that decades from now, such things would evolve into currency.  
  
I also noticed some Sacramento soldiers among the patrons, dressed in fatigues with the California flag patch sewn onto the right sleeve. Most of them were in their mid-to-late teens. I wondered if the boss of Sacramento provided electricity to the nightclub in exchange for the soldiers getting in for free.   
  
I saw one of the soldiers go into the men's room and I followed him inside. I saw him use the urinal and then go to the sink. I noticed this place still had running water! Back at Our Lady of Refuge, there was neither electricity nor running water, and we all had to use an outhouse. Running water was available in Sacramento, at least to the boss and his inner circle.   
  
If there was one thing I learned from my two years of sliding, it was to be quick on my feet and to strike like lightning. So that's what I did. I used a sap I carried inside and struck the soldier near the base of his skull. He went down cold. I went into one of the toilet stalls, noticing how clean the toilet is, and immediately undressed him.   
  
When I left the restroom, I was dressed in the outfit of a Sacramento soldier.   
  
I was on the dance floor, and the stereo was playing "Jump" by Van Halen. I was about to leave when a pretty lady tapped my shoulder.  
  
"Hey soldier boy,:" she said. "Never seen you here before."  
  
"Here," I said, giving her the coupons. "I've been called back to base; there's an emergency."  
  
I went to the cage and retrieved my Beretta, and then I was out of the nightclub. I got onto Swift Wind who was drinking from a horse trough. I untied him and rode back to the governor's mansion.  
  
There were no lights inside; the so-called governor must be sleeping. I decided to make my move.  
  
I went to the back entrance guarded by a soldier who looked like he was sixteen years old. "Excuse me," I said as I approached him. "I'm from the base, and I need tio speak to your commander."  
  
"At this time of night?" he asked. "I'm not allowed to let anyone in here. If you need to see the duty officer now, speak with the guards at the front."  
  
"I know the governor has working phones in his mansion, maybe you can call him. I can show you the papers."  
  
That gave me the opportunity to strike. I grabbed his left arm and shoulder and then thrust my knee into his solar plexus. I then struck the base of his skull and he went down.  
  
"Well, I'm in," I said as I went through the door. The interior was unlit, as it was after dark and most of the staff are either asleep or in nightclubs like the one where I got this uniform from. Luckily, I have excellent night vision, as turning on a flashlight will attract attention. I opened each of the doors. I saw the outlines of desks and stuff-an office. Apparently, this is where the governor's staff had once worked in the days before the plague destroyed American civilization.   
  
I left the office and continued down the hallway. I then saw a door.   
  
She was down there. I knew it. I wondered if I had developed psychic powers since becoming unstuck, or if my guardian angel from another dimension was guiding me.   
  
I went inside the door and I noticed it was a stairwell leasing down to the basement. After descending the stairs, I reached the door at the bottom. I shined a light on the door, and there was stenciling reading "LEVEL B1".  
  
In opened the door and I noticed that the basement hallway was lit; the light came from fluorescent lamps in the ceiling. The floor was made of concrete and pipes ran overhead. I made sure the pistol was ready and loaded.   
  
As my feet echoed on the conrete floor, I could somehow feel myself getting closer to Deana. She is being held in this basement level. My extra sense became louder or something as I got to a pair of steel doors.   
  
I opened it and it led to this huge room. I saw a soldier in there, holding an automatic rifle in his hands.  
  
I also saw cages. In each of those cages was a young woman, sitting in there naked. I noted some of them could not be older than sixteen. The cages were to small to either stand up or to lie down.   
  
"Excuse me," said the soldier. "My shift isn't over yet. Is there any problem."  
  
"Yes," I said. And then I opened fire with the Beretta M93R, hitting the soldier square in the chest. I looked through the cages.  
  
And in one of the cages, I saw Deana.  
  
"Deana," I said. "It's me, Colin. I'm here to rescue you."  
  
"colin," she said. She looked up. she looked different from the last time I saw her; I could only imagine what she had been through these past few hours.  
  
There was a padlock on the cage; I wondered how to open it. Then I saw keys hanging from a rack mounted on the wall. I took the keys and then unlocked Deana's cage. I opened it, and then she ran out and hugged me. Looking at the other girls in the cages, I decided to unlock the other cages too.   
  
I removed the shirt and pants from the fallen soldier so Deana would have something to wear. Now I wondered where to go. There were no clothes for the other girls, and it wasn't exactly a warm summer night outside. It was still winter, in fact. The only place to find clothes would be on the upper levels of the governor's mansion.   
  
"Listen," I said. "If we're to get out of here, we need to stick together. Deana, do you know how to fire that thing?"  
  
"No," she said.  
  
"Okay, I'll give you the pistol," I said, giving her the Beretta M93R. I then took the M-16. We all headed out into the hallway. It was still clear. We all headed up the stairs and to the first floor of the mansion. We walked along the carpeted hallways.  
  
"Halt!" someone shouted. One of the mansion guards had spotted us.  
  
I replied with a burst of fire from the M-16. There was no time to be subtle now. We might as well turn on the lights. So we did. We continued on. After a few minutes of wandering and shooting two more guards, we found a door marked "PRIVATE RESIDENCE".  
  
Well, if there is any place we could find clothes, it would be the private residence. I shot the lock off and then we went rhrough the doors and turned on the lights. This was apparently the governor's living room, complete with sofas and chairs and a coffee table and a wide-screen Sony color television with a Sony video cassette recorder attached. I also noticed some VHS video tapes on the coffee table.Some of them were of movies made before the plague, others were unmarked.  
  
a closet in the living room gave us what we were looking for, there were coats and jackets inside for all of ther girls. The othert girls went into the rooms of the private residence and took some more clothes.  
  
Now that the girls won't freeze to death on the streets of Sacramento, we had to figure out how to get out of here. I am sure there are working cars stored somewhere, probnbaly in a garage. We would have to make our way to the garage, and appropriate a van and drive back to San Francisco.  
  
"Okay," I said. "It's time for us to go."  
  
I looked around, but then I noticed Deana was missing. Where did she go?  
  
"Stay here," I told the girls. "I'm going to look for Deana."  
  
I went up to the second level of the mansion's private residence. It was a carpeted hallway, and the doors all led to bedrooms.   
  
I then heard a shot. I ran to the source and I saw the door of the master bedroom open. I knew what was happening.  
  
Deana was going to the master bedroom to find the boss of Sacramento and then kill him in his sleep. Well, I coiuld only imagine what she had been through during her time here.  
  
I heard footsteps. I wondered if it was from the girls. A second later, my hunch prioved incorrect as I saw soldiers swarm in, all brandishing M-16's.   
  
"Halt!" they shouted. I saw the hallway lights turned on, revealing the hallway in full glory. I saw Deana brought out of the master bedroom, dressed in the combat fatigues, escorted by two young soldiers.   
  
then I saw the boss of Sacramento come out, dressed in a purple robe.  
  
"Are you all right, sir?" asked the commander of the soldiers.  
  
"Fine, Captain," replied the boss. "May I ask what happened?"  
  
"Sir, apparently the girls broke free from the holding pen in the basement. It appears someone broke in. The sentry guarding the back door was found knocked out behind some bushes, and the guard assigned to watch the girls is dead."  
  
"Very well, Captain. The fallen guard shall be buried with full honors. And what of the girls?"  
  
"They are in the living room, and we still have them."  
  
"They shall be returned to the holding pen. As for the one who broke into my bedroom, put her in the chamber and tie her to the rack. She is not to be harmed yetl; I intend to give her some discipline in the morning. And I want a guard posted all entry points into the private residence."  
  
"You," the captain said to me, not realizing I was not in the Sacramento militia.  
  
"Yes, sir?" I asked, not wanting to blow my cover.  
  
"You will guard the main entry into the private residence. No one enters or leaves unless you hear from me or the governor."  
  
"Yes, sir," I replied.  
  
I went out as Deana and the others were herded out of the private residence. I went out the door of the private residence, and I noticed that there was a desk next to the front door. I sat on the desk. As I sat there, I counted myself lucky that the security here did not learn about counter-infilitration techniques from their parents.  
  
I remembered the boss telling the guards not to harm Deana until he comes. I just hoped that they had a habit of following orders.  
  
I looked at my watch; there were forty-one hours left until the next slide. So I decided to wait. I was interrupted by telephone calls every half hour. Eaxch time, someone would ask me if everything was all right, and I answered affirmatively. I certainly cvould not ignore the phone, or else some soldiers would be sent up here to check. At one point, I was getting tired, so I asked for coffee. Fortunately, one of the soldiers brought up coffee; apparently the boss of Sacramento still had access to coffee.   
  
After sitting at the desk for hours, the doors to the private residence was opened. The boss of Sacramento came out, dressed in a suit.  
  
"Good morning, sir," I said. "May I help you?"  
  
"Good morning," he replied. "I'm sure you are tired after standing watch here."  
  
"Actually, sir, I can help you with one more thing."  
  
"Then accompany me to the basement; I have a prisoner to interrogate."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
And so I accompanied the boss. We were accompanied by the captain who had duty the previous night as well as another officer who was his superior. After descending two flights of stairs, we reached the basement. We then entered this room. I saw Deana in the room.  
  
She klay on a wooden table, with her wrists and ankles bound. She had been sitting there all night. I also saw chainsand shackles hanging from the ceiling, as well as a whip hanging from a rack..  
  
This room reminded me of something. An event that still haunted me even after nine months.  
  
Nine months ago, soon after becoming unstuck, I was sent to the Presidio Concentration Camp in San Francisco by a U.S. District Court for participating in a Jewish conspiracy against the Aryan race. Of course I was innocent, but then I was not allowed to call witnesses on mny own behalf nor allowed to cross-examine the government's witnesses, so I was convicted and sentenced to death. On my first day yhere, I objected to the cruel treatment of the prisoners and I was taken to a room like the one I was in now to be punished. I was hung upside down and my back was whipped repeatedly. Looking around the room, it seems the boss whips his girls as some sort of foreplay.   
  
"Untie her from the table," the boss commanded.  
  
I took a key hanging from the rack near the whip and then unlocked the shackles holding Deana's wrists and ankles. I looked into her eyes, and she looked in mine.  
  
"Now tie her to the ceiling," said the boss.  
  
I led Deana to the ceiling shackles and I placed her wrists in them, and pretended to lock the shackles.  
  
The boss took the whip from the rack. "Now remove that shirt."  
  
This was it. I raised the rifle at the boss and aimed.  
  
then something hit me in ther side real hard. And it hurt!   
  
"Well, well," said the boss. "So we have an intruder."  
  
"Shall I kill him, sir?" asked one of the officers.  
  
"No, Colonel, I want to see if he is willing to talk." the boss looked at me. "Who are you?"   
  
"my name is Colin Mallory," I said. "Who are you?"  
  
"I'm the Governor of California."  
  
"I don't remember you being elected."  
  
"It is true that the constitutional government collapsed after the plague. This is only an interim government. I control Sacramento, so I am rightfully the governor. Where are you from?"  
  
"I was born in San Francisco. After my parents died I moved around for a few years. I came here to resuce the women you're holding captive."  
  
"As governor, I have the right to the first fruits of this land." He paused and looked at me. "You have a working digital watch. Where did you get that?"  
  
"From a friend," I said.  
  
Well, we all know that those things need batteries, and no more batteries are being made at the moment. Did you come from Fresno? Or Baskersfield? Did their leaders send you here to spy on me."  
  
"I'm not affiliated with them."  
  
"did anyone send you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"then you are simply an intruder. The penalty is death."  
  
Then I heard a shot, but it was not me who was shot. Deana had released her arm from the shackle, and then opened fire on the boss with the pistol I slipped into her pocket. The two officers pointed their rifles at Deana, so I immediately went for the rifle I brought in and opened fire on both of them. I looked around; the boss and the two officers were wounded or dead.  
  
"Okay," I said. "Let's get the others."  
  
Deana and I went to the holding pen where thr girls were being held and we freed them. Only this time, we had to find another way out.   
  
"Where do we go?"Deana asked. "We can't just go out the front door."  
  
"I think I know where to go," said one of the girls. "My dad worked here as a security guard before he died. He told me secret tunnels were built underneath Sacramento connected the state government buildings. The governor used these tunnels to escape Sacramento when Mexican warships siled up the river and bombarded Sacramento during the Second Mexican War."  
  
"You sure know your history," I said.  
  
"Well, it was my favorite subject at school."  
  
"Tell me where the entrance to the tunnel is."  
  
And so she did. As it turned out, it was in the torture room where the boss and his two officers still lay.  
  
"it has to be around here," the girl said, puhsing around. "I remember when my dad took me."  
  
Then a wall opened up. Apparenrtly, the secret escape route still worked even after over a decade of neglect.  
  
We all entered the dark tunnels. I took point, brandishing an M-16. I half expected monsters to attack us in the darkness. Fortunately, we had flashlights. One of the girlsd found the flashlight near the secret door.  
  
After walking a few feet, we saw a metal staircase heading up. "There should be an exit," the girl said. We walked up the stairs, and reached a door. the girl opened the door, and we emerged into a closet. There were still cleaning supplies in there. We emerged out of the closet and went to the hallway. There were already people walking about in this building we were in, which was not the governor's mansion. we reached the door, and I read a plaque next to it. It read "SENATE CHAMBER".  
  
We were in the state Capitol. I looked into the chamber of the California State Senate. There were people in there, still on business, and it appeared they were trading goods. Apparently, the California State Capitol was turned into a market.   
  
"Let's go home," I said.  
  
We all left the state Capitol. I hoped no one tried to take Swift Wind, whom I left tied to a lamppost. We found him still tied to the lamppost, resting. Forutnately, I acquired some oats from the Capitol market in exchange for some magazine clips as well as the Beretta pistol. I fed the hungry horse the oats and he was up again.  
  
"Where do we go now?" asked Deana. "Swift Wind can't carry all of us."  
  
I then saw a military truck drive dwon the street. "I have an idea," I said.   
  
and it worked. The girls walked in the path of the truck, and the truck driver, a boy of about sixteen, stopped. Needless to say, Deana and I went to the truck and forced the driver out.   
  
"Will you be coming with us?" I asked.  
  
"No, replied the girl who showed me the shortcut and was now behind the steering wheel. "We'll take our own path."  
  
"I can't understand what you endured back there."  
  
"You never will," she said. And then she put the truck in gear and drove off.  
  
Deana and I rtode on Swift Wind together. We stopped by the Sacramento River so he could drunk up, and then we headed westbound on Interstate 80 heading to San Francisco. It took a good few hours to get back. Deana did not say anything. I knew that the horror of the events are still at the surface of her mind. I looked at my watch; I still had a day left.  
  
We finally made it back to the Our Lady of Hope High School. Lee Tan was there to greet us.  
  
"Hey, Deana," he said. "You're alive. We're so glad you made it!"  
  
I decided to escort Deana back to her quarters. We reached her door, and then she entered and shut the door.  
  
I put my ear against the door; I could hear her sobbing. 


	5. Tying Up Loose Ends

There was still one more thing I had to do before I left this world. Lee Tan and I and some other people went to my duplicate's house in San Francisco. I had brought with me a journal from a stationery store.  
  
"So this is it," said Lee Tan. "Your dimensional duplicate from this world."  
  
"That is his journal, a recording of the last days before the plague destroyed his world," I said.  
  
"So we're going to take this journal back to the school?"  
  
"No," I said. "it will be left here with everything else. I'm going to copy it word for word. I have the same handwriting as he does, so it shopuld look nearly identical."  
  
And so that is what I did. I copied the entries from September 5, 1989 to his last entry on May 31, 1990 - eight months worth of entries. It took over an hour to finish the entries.  
  
"Well, I'm done here," I said. I left the original journal on the carpet next to the bed where my duplicate's dessicated skeleton lay.   
  
"I found a family album," said a woman who came with us. "Should we leave it here?"  
  
"We can take it," I said. I glanced through the photographs; I identified my duplicate, his parents, and Quinn. There were also other people in the album, whom I assumed were cousins, aunts, and uncles. Back where I grew up, I did not know any cousins, and the only uncle I knew was Uncle Mac. Quinn had told me about one or two of his cousins.   
  
We went back to the school and showed the journal copy to Father Feretti.  
  
"This is great," he said.  
  
"We should make as many copies of these as we can," I said. "Future generations must know about the history of this world."  
  
"It would be like this journal that was found in Pompeii."  
  
"Where?" I asked, unfamiliar with the term.  
  
"It was a city that was buried when Mount Vesuvius erupted about nineteen hundred years ago," said the priest. "When the site was excavated four hundred years ago, a journal was found, written by a servant of one of the patrician families. It was carefully preserved and copied and translated. I bought a copy of the journal twenty years ago-written in the original Latin-and I still have it. The ending is rather abrupt, as the volcanic eruption was so swift he did not even have time to write about it. The original journal was in a museum in Rome when the plague struck. It may still be there, or someone might have taken it. None of us know what is happening in that part of the world."  
  
"Well, maybe Colin Mallory's journal will become a museum piece within, say, thirty years."  
  
"It all depends on what civilization we build. Anyway, I am sure the younger ones will enjoy copying this manuscript, just as Christian monks copied the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ."  
  
I spent another hour copying the journal. After reviewing it word for word to ensure that the journal was accurate, I gave a copy to Father Feretti. I then made one more copy of the journal.  
  
That night, dinner was served. It would be my last dinner on this world, for tomorrow I will leave. I decided to sit across from Deana. She was very quiet as she ate the chicken meat.  
  
"How are you feeling?" I asked.  
  
"Fine," she said quietly. It was obvious she was not feeling fine.  
  
"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Listen, I made a copy of a journal opf a man who died of the plague. I'd like you to have it."  
  
Deana took the journal and browsed through it. "Thanks," she said.  
  
Later that night, Deana and I stood outside, smoking marijuana.   
  
"do you want to talk about it?" I asked.  
  
"No!" she shouted. "I don't want to talk about it!"  
  
"I don;t think you could just keep it inside. I can not understand how you felt."  
  
"Well, don't!"  
  
We both stood outside, quietly smoking marijuana.  
  
"I don't know why this happened to meg. Why did my parents have to die? Why did they take me to Sacramento? Why did they...they... I don't know if everythin is ever going to be okay."  
  
That was a feeling I was too familiar with. When I met Quinn, Rembrandt, and Maggie two years ago, they were still dealing with the loss of the professor and Wade whom they lost the year before. And nine months ago I was separated from them and I still miss them and wonder if they are all right, and they must feel the same about me. And of course there are my parents who sired me, who sent me away because of a world war, and who have no idea whether or not I am still alive.   
  
Sometimes I doubt whether or not everything will be all right.  
  
And yet I look at Deana. Her very soul had been wounded, and she may never recover from that wound. What happened to her was worse than the tortures the kromaggs inflicted on Rembrandt when he was in that prison camp, or even the tortures inflicted on me when I was held in the Presidio nine months ago.   
  
The next day was the day I was about to leave. I received beef and chicken jerky for my journey to come. I had only a few minutes left. Father Feretti and the others were going to send me off. I patted my coat pocket, which contained a copy of my duplicate's journal.  
  
"Well, good luck on your journey," said Father Feretti. "The Lord Jesus Christ will be with you."  
  
"Good luck on your quest to build a new civilization," I said.  
  
"I hope you find your brother, Colin," said Lee Tan.  
  
"Goodbye, Colin," said Deana. "I'll be sad to see you go."  
  
"Well, just take it one day at a time," I said. "It's what I do."  
  
And then they all disappeared. I dound myself in a garbage-strewn alley.  
  
I thought back for a moment. It is unfortunate I could not stay longer to help Deana deal with the emotional wounds of the past day. I guessed she was lucky to have friends to help her through his time.  
  
But I had to look towards the future. I had to reunite with my brother. And my first order of business was to scout the area.  
  
One end of the alley opened into a street. and it was a busy street. Cars drove down one direction of the street, apparently it was a one way street. There were people walking along the sidewalks, and entering or leaving the stores along the street. There were no obvious signs that a plague wiped out the entire adult population a decade before.  
  
I wandered around for a few minutes, making observations about this new world such as reading the street signs and the storefront signs. I looked at my watch, and I had but a little less than three days.  
  
That should be enough time to learn how to speak Chinese. 


End file.
